


The Fall of the House of Vader

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Background Leia Organa/Luke Skywalker/Han Solo - Freeform, Consensual Incest, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, non-consensual incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-30 18:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10169369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Luke can't say no to the people he loves. Ben doesn't accept no from anyone. Leia has never found a rule she won't break for the right reason. Han just wants his family together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cerberusia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/gifts).



> For Cerberusia: I believe and hope this is what you wanted. Have a happy May the 4th!

Beginnings are hard. Implying there is one point of origin, one moment between what could have been and what is, implies a sense of control. If he had just. If she had instead. If they hadn't at all. Then everything would be different from the now. Reality has a more convoluted sway: perhaps she said and he chose and they didn't think, and a dust mote settles on the wrong fly's wing.

There is no place to say, 'This is where it began.' There is a girl, born in freedom and captured in slavery, and she has a child with no father: not dead, not absent, neither her cruel master or some secret lover. Does it begin with him, or with her, or with the choice her parents made when they chose the flight that killed them and orphaned their daughter to her fate? There is no one beginning.

Nevertheless, it begins with dreams. The boy is a man, and dreams of the death of his wife, and in denial of that destiny, he burns his own world to the ground, and he burns, and his dreams are only of fire. But now there are two children, a new little girl and a new little boy, and they dream of each other. The girl is raised with power, and responsibility, and she is taught the importance of freedom for all beings. She dreams of sand, and flight, and staring up at the desert night. The boy is raised with humility, and the hunger acquired by every meal containing just enough. He dreams of snow-covered peaks and cool lakes, and the taste of freedom on his tongue.

He tastes freedom in her mouth the first time they kiss, not on the cheek but with need sparked by the celebratory wine and a mutual loneliness from having lost their families on the same day. She never tells him what she tastes, and later he hopes it's not sand. The man neither of them can get out of their heads has his own tastes, musky and a little wild, stale caf in his kiss and the hot shot of salt after. Han doesn't dream the same dreams Luke does, doesn't share Leia's vision, and as much as the pair need each other like breathing, they need him to give them a space between to breathe. Each night together is like a new beginning, for as long as it lasts.

It lasts until Han is frozen and stolen from them, lasts until they find him, curling around him in relief, lasts until Luke has one last errand to run. He speaks with ghosts who must have watched, and known, and said nothing as he'd spent night after night in Leia's arms, buried so deeply inside her that they were practically one person.

Beginnings are hard. Endings are hell.

* * *

"Uncle Luke is coming to visit, isn't he?" Ben asks his mother. At nine, he has learned the craft of the politician, but not how to wield the words as deftly as she does. He makes clumsy strokes, poking at wounds. He knows when he mentions his uncle, his mother's eyes take on a peculiar shade, like memories of a storm, before she puts on a fake smile.

"Soon, I'm sure," she says. "He's very busy getting the school together." So busy he doesn't visit any more. So busy that Father's eyes can't even disguise their grief with a false smile. There's been another argument, one Ben wasn't allowed to listen in on. He did, of course. It didn't help. All three spoke in half-codes and alluded-to memories. His parents always argue after they fight with his uncle, and they fight with Uncle Luke because he won't come see them. They miss him. When he was small, Luke lived with them in the little house they left three planets ago. If it ended with an argument, Ben doesn't remember.

The budding politician he'll never be says, "He loves me. Obviously he will come visit." The storm crackles with energy then, as Mother worries her lip and lives in another time, so much unsaid.

* * *

At fourteen, Ben is old enough to understand love and lovers, if only in the theoretical sense. The storm in his mother's eyes crashes when she is fighting with her brother, but there's a placid calmness after he has relented and returned to them, and now Ben knows why.

They don't know he's home. He's supposed to be with friends today. When he felt the mental touch of Uncle Luke's mind approaching the planet, he made his excuses to children who don't like him much anyway. He intended to come in and surprise Luke, impress his uncle with how his powers are growing. Instead, he is frozen by the door of his parents' room, transfixed by the sounds he typically tries to ignore from the pair of them.

Luke is in there. He's moaning. It's low. Someone who didn't have an ear pressed to the wall, pulse racing and stomach churning with complex feeling, someone else, they would have missed the sound, definitely would not have caught the thick breath of Ben's father exerting himself. His mother's voice is louder, more ragged.

He can feel them.

It's not sensation, not touch. Their emotions bend and curl at him, overlaid with need and rapturous pleasure. He could not be more sure of what is happening if he were to stand at the foot of their bed. His mother's legs are spread wide, and her brother's face is between her thighs, his mouth sucking and licking at her deliciously. His father is nestled behind Luke, and his prick is slick with oils as he pushes deeper and deeper into the tight heat.

His mother cries out, and Ben feels her climax inside his belly, feels the quakes as Luke's tongue pushes against her for more. His own prick is hard as stone in his pants, the way he wakes up in the morning, uncomfortably aware of his own body. There's damp against his drawers, and that's enough to break his trance, enough to tear him across the hallway into his own bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he can before he strips off his pants and holds himself. Two doors between, and there is no difference now because his uncle is giving way to the thick feel of Ben's father inside him, and Ben can feel everything as he pumps his hand, crying and wanting, silently coming all over himself.

He's felt this before in his dreams. He's awakened with his own hand down his pajama pants. Nothing has ever been like this.

He stays in his room, coming out hours later, lying that he thought they weren't home yet, that he'd taken a nap, that he was happy to see Uncle Luke there. He pulls back from the hug.

"I'm getting too big for that," Ben lies, and he accepts their lies in return.

* * *

He begins his training with his uncle when he turns fifteen. It feels like his parents have given up on him, feels like they have kicked him out, but when he's not sulking, he knows this was the best choice. Luke will train him to control his often-erratic powers, and he could not love Ben more if they were father and son. Were it not for the clear marks of his father's face on his own features, Ben would worry more.

The school exists in name only. Other Jedi have emerged like insects crawling from a decades-dormant sleep underground. They meet in pairs and fours and sixes, working together for days or weeks before drifting off again, blown far and wide by other responsibilities. The unit of Jedi is two: the Master and the Padawan. A rare teacher will take on two students. Everyone wants to spend time with the legendary Luke Skywalker, picking up Jedi lore at his myth-addled knee. They come and go, and Ben learns the expressions they make as they set eyes on his uncle for the first time, awe and hope melting away distrust and disbelief. He learns the shape of confusion and disappointment returning, as the new supplicants inevitably draw their gaze aside, and see the dark, awkward shadow beside him, all limbs and nose and crooked smile and acne he can neither wash nor wish away. The other one.

But when they part with the others, as they always do, Ben is the one who flies away with the legend, and there's a jealous pride in that which lights his eyes as he feels another new student catching their first look at him and judging.

Uncle Luke helps, and hurts, by his warm smiles and his patient lessons. Ben picks up new tricks at a varied pace, sometimes laser-fast, sometimes stupidly slow, and his uncle praises him every time he succeeds, and helps him every time he falters. It should be patronizing.

It's heavenly.

Later, Ben will convince himself Luke must have compelled his mind, using Jedi power for dark purpose. He will retell the story to himself, tell himself the same must have happened with his parents. At best, Luke doesn't know he's drawing the people he loves in too close, and at worst, he knows that's precisely what he's doing. Ben will create the story, and Kylo will whisper the words to his new Master.

Much later, in the embers of the ruined conflagration of his life, Kylo will know it was the other way around. He wanted, and he pushed, and Luke fell.

Now there is nothing but basking under the glow of Luke's sun-drenched smiles and his encouraging words, leaning like a weed towards the light, the tendrils of his own clinging need wrapping around the nearest solid wall he can reach.

The beginning is lost in a churning sea of affectionate hugs and intimate touching of minds. It is mixed with nights spent huddled in the same duratent, through cold and storms, and waking with the same human needs they can only give the barest privacy towards with averted eyes and the occasional deafened ear.

There's a woman, beautiful and brilliant, one of dozens of old friends they meet during their brief stays. His uncle is attracted to women, to Ben's shame, and while this one does not flirt more than a friendly smile, the waft of her scent lingers on Luke's robes after he's hugged her good-bye, and he and Ben have returned to the small room they are borrowing for the night. There's no bed, but enough blankets make a soft place to sleep. Ben closes his eyes, and wakes to Luke beside him wide awake and attempting to be both silent and still.

The blankets are hot, and his nose is full of the light perfume and the scent of sweat on the shoulder beside his, and he wants. He has wanted since he knew he could want.

He reaches out, and his hand joins Luke's.

Luke bolts upright instantly, pulling away, the blanket around his waist. His face is open, scared. "Ben. I shouldn't have, not with you in the room."

There's a moment. Some Jedi can see the shattered directions of the future cracking out from one point. Luke doesn't have this gift, and normally, neither does Ben, but right now, he knows he can mumble an embarrassed joke, and roll over, and this will be forgotten by morning. They'll be tense around each other, then fall back into their usual pattern, and nothing will have changed. He will grow under Luke's teaching, and become a Jedi Knight in due course, and no one will know about the night he made a mistake in thinking Luke would want him back.

This is the other path.

"It's fine," Ben says, sliding closer. He wants Luke to open his mind, wants him to see the simple truth of their shared desire. He wants, and he wishes very hard.

Luke blinks, shaking his head. "It's not fine. It's...."

"It's not any worse than what you've already done with my mother and my father."

Luke's jaw tightens, and his scent changes, frightened. "Ben, don't think that."

"You love them, and you love me. Don't be afraid." Later, when he tells himself that Luke forced the encounter, he will make himself forget how he reaches for his uncle's chin and brings him in for a clumsy kiss. Much later, he will remember the spark of resistance he meets when he pushes past Luke's barriers, remember pushing in with his own mind, until a softness falls over his uncle, and he allows his mouth to hang open, accepting Ben's curious tongue.

Ben reaches for him again, finding the half-hard flesh just like his own hand touches on desperate nights. He knows how good it feels to slide his clenched fingers up and down, to flick a nail at the sensitive foreskin. He kisses and he strokes, and he's hard under the last of the blanket still covering him.

"Touch me," he says, and Luke's arm jerks out and grasps hold, and it's good, so good to have someone else touching him this way.

Ben moans into the kisses, his hand stuttering through the work. Quiet. He ought to be quiet, but he'll be screaming if he doesn't watch himself, listening in to Luke's thoughts and feeling his own hand rubbing faster on Luke's prick while Luke squeezes and strokes him.

He's stronger every day, strong enough to tug Luke down to the blanket instead of huddled against the wall, settling his lanky legs between Luke's thighs as they keep stroking and jerking each other. There's a dim, shocked look in his uncle's eyes, and the word in his mouth that Ben kisses away is "No." He doesn't have time for no. He doesn't have room for anything but the burning rush through his head, shocking down his body, as he comes in a wet stain on his uncle's half-open night shirt. He forgets himself for a moment, and he continues his own work another minute, until he feels Luke's pleasure betray him, spilling out in a second mess.

Ben kisses him again, learning this new feeling as he rests, mindless of the stickiness between them.

"We waited too long for that," he says, and he wants Luke to agree, but he doesn't.

Luke doesn't speak to him for much of the next day. "Work on your meditation," is the most Ben can get out of him, and nothing else on any other subject. They're off on more travels, and in the ship, they each have their own bunk, a rare luxury. Ben goes to his uncle's quarters that night, but the door is locked.

"We should talk," he says the next morning, as soon as Luke emerges from his cabin. "You're avoiding me."

"I need room to think now," Luke says. He hasn't offered up one of his smiles in days. "I need to figure out what to do with you."

"I have some suggestions," Ben says with a grin. He doesn't miss the quiet shudder that passes through Luke and vanishes again like smoke. He drops the grin. "Fine."

"I've set a course for Aleen. Your father will meet us there. You're going home for a while."

"What? Why?"

"Because I have things I need to do, and it isn't safe to bring you with me." He closes his eyes. "I have drifted too far into shadow. I would excuse it out of love, but that's what destroyed your grandfather. You can spend time with your parents. In the meantime, work on your meditation."

There is no argument. Luke will hear no complaints. He's not angry, which is the worst thing. Ben can face anger. He can take rebuke. He is happy to be punished if Luke thinks he should be. But sent home? That's a disgrace.

* * *

Han can't stop the worried smile as he sees his son for the first time in a year. Luke's unhappy about something, and clearly has been ever since he sent his message. Han's got hugs for both, and Chewie just about cracks ribs saying hello, and Luke won't even smile for him.

While Ben takes his stuff aboard the Falcon, Han pulls Luke aside. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Luke shakes his head. "I'll tell you when I'm ready. I can't now. I'm sorry. I'll be back for him soon."

"Okay, but you come back for us, too, all right?" Han tries a twinkle, and since Ben is out of sight, he goes in for a quick kiss. Luke's whole body tenses, and he tugs away. The twinkle is gone, and Han is all worry now. "Luke, what happened?"

Luke's eyes are dark. "I will tell you when I can." He does press his lips against Han's cheek, but it's not the same.

Han watches his ship take off, and he wonders.

* * *

Ben is by turns quiet and surly, which Han fully expects. Teenagers are famous for moodiness, and telepathic, telekinetic teenagers with a chip on their shoulders are worse. Whatever argument he and Luke had, Ben isn't sharing any more than Luke did. It must have been bad.

There's a worry, one of several, that grows in Han's stomach as the days go by. He keeps his cargo runs within the system, and keeps his eye on his kid, and he can't help but wonder how good that telepathy thing has grown. Does Ben listen in on his thoughts? Can he hear Leia dreaming? Does he know?

They've never told him about the thing with Luke, the incredible, wonderful thing that began back in the old days and never really stopped, no matter how many times Luke pulls away and says they shouldn't. Han knows they shouldn't keep bedding Leia's brother, not since they discovered the truth, but Han loves him so much, and he's lousy at letting go. Leia's never once let the rules tell her she can't do something she believes is the right thing to do.

Han thinks they definitely ought to sit the kid down one day very soon, and tell him. Cards on the table, full story. About Vader. About Luke. About everything.

Then he comes home one night, and Ben is kissing his mother, really kissing her. At first, Han doesn't know what to think, doesn't know what he's seeing. Is she choking, and he's helping her? Is he giving her a good-night kiss and Han is at a weird angle? The moment changes, and so does the angle, and it's three strides to reach them, pushing them apart.

"What the hell?" The words are to Ben. He doesn't want to think Leia did this. He's watched her straddle her brother's thighs, riding him as sweat stuck her hair down her back, urging him on. He has seen her lips play over Luke's prick, sucking and licking him as Han's mouth nibbled at the soft down covering his balls. She's buckled on a belt, fitted with a proud, jutting silicone toy, and she's fed the slicked phallus into her twin as he gasped and begged her to go deeper.

But this is her son.

Surely she wouldn't. Surely she couldn't. Surely she hasn't spread her knees and let Ben kneel between her legs to take that first intimate taste as she arched under the press of his tongue.

Oh, Leia.

Leia's eyes are distant, almost clouded. "It's fine," she says, in an echo of her own voice. Inside Han's head, he hears, "It's fine." The same clouds in her eyes press against his head.

It's not fine. It's horrible. But Ben has taken his neck in a firm hand, drawing him closer, and his lips are soft. "You love me," his son breathes into his mouth. "Please, I need you to love me." His erection is thick in his trousers, pressing against Han's hip.

Han does love him. He loves Ben more than his life.

"Love me," is the command, given to them both.

The clouds descend.

* * *

"I've asked for a posting on another planet," Leia announces. She's taken them out to dinner yet again. For some reason, she hates stepping into the apartment here. The living room bothers her. She's rearranged it five times since Ben came home, and every morning, she wakes up hating everything about it. The apartment feels wrong, from the kitchen to her bedroom. The whole planet feels wrong.

"Great," Han says, toasting her. He's had a lot to drink tonight. He's been drinking more, and she wants to tell him to stop, and she wants to join him.

"Oh," she says, turning to Ben. "I've got some great news for you. Luke contacted me today. He's finally got a permanent site set up for the school he's been trying to get together. He's already got four other students, and he says he can't wait for you to join him. Aren't you excited?"

Her voice is upbeat, and she can't explain the fear under her words. She couldn't answer Luke's question when he asked her if she was all right.

"You're sending me back to him?"

"If you want to go. You seem to have learned so much." The words come out in brittle staccato. She's reminded, crazily, of a puppet show she watched as a child. The puppet's mouth moved, but she kept her eyes on the puppeteer, waiting to catch him.

Her strings feel limp.

"He doesn't want me, either."

"Hey," Han says, a little too loudly. "Luke loves having you around, and so do we. We just all want what's best for you."

Ben stands up. "I'm tired. Let's go home."

Ice freezes in Leia's veins. She'll be leaving this planet soon. Everything will be better when they leave this planet.

She doesn't want to go home.

* * *

"They are yours to command," says his new Master, the wrinkled alien who seems to know every thought Ben has ever had.

No, not Ben. Ben is gone. Ben was rejected, unloved. The people who should have loved him were afraid of him and sent him away again and again.

"I have the coordinates," says Kylo Ren.

* * *

The scene plays out in front of her, and Rey cannot make a move to stop it, not a word. The beast who invaded her mind, who's been chasing her on this base, who visited her dreams long before she knew his name, is going to murder the man in front of him. She can see it crackle out into the future, one path in front of them out of many, but the most likely of all.

She's known Han for a day, and Kylo is right. She already loves him like the missing father she can't remember. But Han has a child, and his son is about to kill him.

The last light fades.

The crystal cracks in the other direction.

The lightsaber flares into Kylo, a self-inflicted attempt to end a torment she only glimpsed inside the tatters of his powerful mind. Han catches his son, checking for the damage, and hoists him into a carry as he shouts to Chewbacca, "He's hurt! Come on!"

The moment is broken, and so is her paralysis. She takes Finn's hand without thinking. "Hurry," she says, and meets Han and Chewie at the door.

* * *

It begins with little observations.

As soon as Han has retrieved his wayward brother-in-law from the mysterious planet Luke ran off to, he's back with them, living out of the ship. Rey already has quarters with the Resistance, bunking with the other pilots, and she doesn't feel bad about declining his offer to sign on. This is where she belongs. Besides, Luke has the third bunk now. The General has her quarters, but no one bats an eye at her spending her sleeping hours aboard her husband's ship, even so far as swapping her room on the base with Chewbacca, who's apparently pretty high-ranking in the military when he's not off swindling Kanjiklub with Han.

Rey watches, and doesn't quite, not quite, know how these pieces fit together. Everyone's curious. Finn and his friend are always asking her if she's seen or heard anything strange since Luke got home. He's offered to teach her, she tells them, but not until after.

'After' is a strange word. Kylo Ren has been recuperating in the infirmary under a name Rey never heard before. She and Finn have been sworn to secrecy that this Ben Solo is the same tyrant who destroyed worlds.

Poe already knows.

As soon as his wounds are healed, Ben takes quarters aboard the Falcon, and then even if she wanted to, she has no cabin left. 'After' hasn't come yet. The odd family is spending all their hours together working through their past.

She wishes she could say the same. She remembers being abandoned. She doesn't remember the faces of the people who abandoned her. They're stuck behind clouds in her memory.

"I could help you with that," says Ben one day as they sit together. She is at her earliest lessons. He has forgotten most of his. Luke is patient with them both.

"With my memory?"

"You would have to be certain you want to know. Some things are best left unknown." He's never apologized for what he did to her, or to Poe, or to the galaxy. She has no reason to trust him.

"No. I'd rather not know."

But when she looks at Luke, part of her already knows. Not the how. Not the why. Just the truth.

* * *

The beginning was fear, and transgression. The second beginning is hard, opening her mind in his presence with Luke there to serve as guard and chaperone.

Beginnings take time.

It takes four months until she follows Ben back to his bunk on the ship. When he is buried inside of her, and his mind is curled around hers like a vine, only then can her senses reach out and feel the bunk next to them is empty, and this one is practically bare.

She reads the truth in his eyes, and Rey wants to be horrified. Instead, she feels the three in the furthest bunk, writhing together, feels their pleasures deep in her belly.

She wants.

Ben pulls from her, still hard and needy. "Are you sure?"

She can feel his mind try to shove into hers, and she pushes back easily. "Yes." Naked, he takes her hand and leads her to the other bunk. The door opens under his hand. Rey knows what she will see, can feel it in the warmth between her legs, could read the past in Ben's thoughts. Luke is deep inside Han, and Leia's mouth is on him.

They turn, like cats, grey and experienced, eyes on them both. Leia stands, knees creaking a bit, and she kisses Rey, her mouth tasting of her husband. Ben stands beside her, his face dropping to press against his mother's breast as his hand reaches out to stroke his father. She can feel a press in the air, the Force pushing at them. Leia guides her closer to the bed. Luke's hand touches Rey's leg, his fingers stroking into her as he moans into Han's body. She's close, too close, and she is drowning as she shouts against Leia's lips.

This is right where Rey has always belonged. This is the beginning of something big.


End file.
